First Serve Panic

Maya stood at the edge of the padel court, heart doing backflips. The country club's summer tournament loomed ahead, and somehow, she'd gotten suckered into playing mixed doubles with Lucas—the sophomore everyone had a crush on.

She adjusted her baseball hat, pulling it low. Bad idea number one: attempting to look "effortlessly athletic" when you'd barely held a racquet before. The brim shadowed her face, hopefully hiding the fact that her hair was already escaping in twelve directions from her messy bun.

"You ready?" Lucas called from across the court, flashing that smile that made half the student body lose their minds.

"Totally," Maya squeaked. Smooth. Real smooth.

Bad idea number two: eating the club's fancy spinach wrap before a match. Her stomach had been making increasingly concerning sounds since the second set. But she'd wanted to look healthy and sophisticated, someone who actually belonged at the country club instead of just tagging along with her best friend's family membership.

The plastic grip of her racquet was already slick with sweat. She stared at her palm, wondering if hand sweat was something normal people worried about, or just her overthinking everything as usual.

"Game point!" Lucas's partner called out.

Maya's turn to serve. The tiny yellow ball sat on the ground like judgment itself. She bent down, knees trembling, and somehow—through some miracle of teenage adrenaline—sent it flying over the net.

But as she straightened up, she felt it: that unmistakable piece of spinach wedged between her front teeth. From the way Lucas's eyes widened, he definitely saw it too.

"Nice serve!" he said, grinning.

Maya's face burned hotter than the sun shining through the palm trees fringing the court. She'd wanted to make an impression, but this wasn't exactly what she'd pictured.

Still, as Lucas high-fived her across the net, spinach and all, she thought maybe embarrassing herself wasn't the worst thing that could happen. At least he was laughing with her, not at her. Probably.

"Same time next week?" he asked.

Maya adjusted her hat and smiled, spinach be damned. "Definitely."